by Irvin Baxter
He thought about the dedication of Israel’s First Temple by King Solomon. The ancient account of that grandiose event had always absolutely fascinated him. Solomon’s eloquent prayer, fire falling from Heaven to consume the sacrifice, and the glory cloud that filled the temple at that first dedication enthralled him.
Then he recalled all of Israel’s backsliding, which eventually resulted in God’s judgment in the form of the destruction of that First Temple and the carrying away of the people of Israel to Babylon by Nebuchadnezzar.
Thoughts of the building of the Second Temple 70 years later by Ezra, Nehemiah and Zerubbabel then consumed him. The Second Temple, which had been remodeled and enlarged by Herod the Great, was the world’s most beautiful building until the Roman General Titus totally destroyed it in 70 A.D.
Then began the nearly two thousand years of exile—the Jews were scattered around the world to Russia, Poland, Spain, France, America, and, of course, Germany. It was as though the Jewish people were just treading water, marking time, for two thousand years. Then, all of a sudden, the horrible holocaust. Afterwards, Jews began heading for the land of Israel from all over the globe. Against all odds and in spite of world opposition, the modern state of Israel was born in 1948. It was certainly the breathing of new life into the valley of dry bones prophesied in Ezekiel 37. Since 1948, Moshe had watched as bone came against bone and joint against joint. Then muscle and skin came upon the bones until, finally, the reformed nation began to breathe.
And now this. The long dreamed-of Third Temple was complete. Yet there were so many things Moshe couldn’t understand. How could Israel leave the Dome of the Rock and the Al Aqsa mosque on God’s holy mountain? To him it was idolatry and an abomination. Yet many were hailing this as the beginning of the Kingdom of God. Rumors were rampant concerning the imminent appearance of the Messiah. Even today many were suggesting that Michael Arachev, the chief architect of the New World Order, was surely the Messiah.
Then there was the Pope actually participating in the sacrifice of an animal by pulling down fire from Heaven. It was hard to criticize such a miracle. Yet Christians claimed that the death of Jesus was the sacrifice that ended all sacrifices. Was Pope Peter actually willing to disregard the New Testament for the sake of his beloved global spirituality? It was as though nothing was sacred anymore for either Jew or Christian. Everything was being offered on the altar of Arachev’s sacred New World Order and the new Global Interfaithism! Moshe shook his head. It was all so confusing!
Outside, the birds began to sing. Moshe realized the sun would soon dawn over the Mount of Olives. But still sleep did not come. When one experiences the dream of an entire lifetime, well, there are some things more important than sleep.
Moshe wanted to witness the first morning sacrifice in two thousand years. He rose from bed, ate a quick bite of breakfast, and headed for the Temple Mount.
To his consternation, several environmentalists and animal rights activists had chosen to attend the morning sacrificial ceremony as well. Moshe saw them discussing the proceedings in a very angry way. He figured it wouldn’t take long for them to cause trouble. He was right.
By that evening, the media were reporting that the environmentalists and animal rights activists were actually picketing on the Temple Mount itself. They had filed suit against the Temple Institute in an attempt to stop the daily sacrifice of innocent animals. An official protest also had been filed with the United Nations.
Soon the animal sacrifice dispute developed into a full-blown world crisis. The world news agencies, with WNN leading the way, were carrying updates on the crisis every hour on the hour. Pressure was building rapidly for Israel to put a stop to the practice.
Thousands of e-mails and faxes poured into Michael Arachev’s offices, demanding that he somehow resolve this absolutely unacceptable situation:
“We thought you were an environmentalist.”
“We helped you to power.”
“These animal sacrifices are 21st Century barbarism.”
He had dealt with so many other crises. Surely he could provide a satisfactory solution to this dilemma. Arachev announced that there would be a press conference on the Temple steps at noon the next day.
The Pope had remained in Jerusalem after the Temple dedication in order to meet with Jews, Muslims, and Christians for an ecumenical celebration. After his astonishing miracle of pulling fire down from Heaven to consume the sacrifice at the Temple dedication, everyone was treating him almost as though he were a deity. Several leading papers in Israel had carried articles speculating as to whether the Pope was the promised Elijah that was to come as the forerunner of the Messiah. After all, hadn’t Elijah pulled down fire from Heaven?
Thus it was no surprise that when Arachev arrived for the press conference, the Pope was at his side. These two leaders, the world’s most respected political leader and the foremost religious leader, had led the way so far into what was finally looking like a genuine New World Order. Now, how would they deal with this latest impasse? The Jews had dreamed of restoring temple worship and sacrifice for two thousand years. To accept that the sacrifices could be stopped as soon as they were started would be difficult indeed. On the other hand, everyone knew how powerful the animal rights activists had become in world politics. Finding a solution wasn’t going to be easy.
Michael Arachev, as his manner was, confidently strode to the microphone and immediately took control of the situation. “Many of you have been concerned about the offering of animals in the new Jewish temple. I share your concern. At the same time, we all know that, in the days of the First and Second Temples, this was an integral part of the Jewish religion. So, is there a compromise? Yes, I’m happy to announce that there is a solution to this conflict.
“Considering recent events, many have been asking if I could possibly be the promised Messiah. I’m sure each of you have read some of the articles in the press speculating about this possibility.
“Because of the present conflict, I feel the time has come to acknowledge what many of you have known instinctively for some time. I am the promised one! And I have come to lead the Jewish nation and the entire world into a new era of peace and security.” Arachev smiled briefly. “As for the present issue, of course animals no longer need to be sacrificed. Your Messiah is here!”
Everyone’s jaw dropped. A space of a few seconds passed as everyone attempted to absorb this announcement. Then the crowd began to applaud. Waves of clapping built like a huge tidal wave until it could be heard across the entire city of Jerusalem.
Someone in the crowd begin to chant, “Messiah, Messiah, Arachev, Messiah.” Soon the entire crowd picked up the refrain: “Arachev, Messiah, Arachev, Messiah.”
The cameras of WNN swept over the chanting, adoring crowd—capturing this mind-boggling development and broadcasting it to the masses around the world. When the camera returned to Michael Arachev, he stood beaming, drinking in the adulation of the people.
Then the cameras’ eyes slid to Pope Peter II. How would he react to this stunning claim by Arachev to being the Messiah? Realizing that the people and the world were looking to him for guidance, the Pope swept his arm in a huge arc toward Arachev. Peter II’s words carried the authority of a prophet: “The Messiah for this time—a leader sent from God—Messiah Arachev—receive him!”
The thunderous applause and shouts began all over again. “Messiah Arachev, Messiah Arachev,” the crowd chanted. “Peter II is his prophet. Peter II is Elijah.”
Much later, when the worship and adulation finally subsided, questions immediately started to come from the press corps as they surged forward toward the podium.
Q. “Mr. Arachev, how long have you known that you were the Messiah?”
A. “For many years now. Once I realized that I was destined to bring peace to the earth, my special calling soon became evident to me.”
Q. To his holiness, Pope Peter II: “What do you make of this claim by Arachev to being the Messiah?”<
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A. “I’ve known for a long time that God had a special mission for Michael Arachev. You may recall that my predecessor, back in 1992, suggested that Mr. Arachev would make the ideal leader for a united Europe. The world must now follow his leadership. The promised time for which all of us have waited has now arrived.”
Q. “Michael Arachev, what will happen to those who refuse to acknowledge your role as the ordained leader of the world?”
A. “They will eventually follow. We have a plan to reeducate any who do not yet understand the absolute necessity of the unity of mankind. I’m sure they will soon realize that our plan is for their good and that of the entire world.”
Many questions later, Arachev made his final statement. “Ladies and gentleman of the press corps, this has been a very eventful day for all of us. You probably have many other questions. However, from now on, I will address the World Community on a regular basis. Those things you need to know will be revealed when the time is right. I’m counting on your help as we lead our world into one thousand years of peace and security. God bless you, and good evening.”
Chapter 15
Moshe headed toward home after Arachev’s announcement with his mind reeling. Could all of this possibly be true? Could the Pope of the Roman Catholic Church actually be our Elijah? Past popes have killed us, persecuted us, and forced us to convert. How can this be? Yes, Arachev has brought peace to Israel and provided for the rebuilding of our temple, and that’s what we have been taught for centuries that our Messiah would do when He finally did come. Yet somehow it just doesn’t feel right! Do I ever have some praying to do!
When Moshe walked into his house, the phone was ringing. His good friend Shlomo from Judea (or the West Bank, as the media refer to it) was calling. “Moshe, what do you make of all this?!” he exclaimed. “You don’t believe that Michael Arachev is our Messiah, do you?”
“Well, I just don’t know,” Moshe said pensively. “He has helped bring peace to Israel, and he did clear the way for the building of our temple.”
“But, Moshe, they’re saying that Buddhists, Muslims, Christians, and Jews all worship the same God! You surely don’t believe that either, do you?”
“Shlomo, we’ve had three thousand years of wars and religious conflict. It really would be nice to have peace. Maybe we need to be more broad-minded.”
“Wait a minute, Moshe.” Shlomo couldn’t believe his ears. “You know the Scriptures say that when the true Messiah comes there will be one Lord and His name one. He will bring us the truth, not some kind of global hodgepodge!”
“Shlomo, you may well be right. By the way, I’m glad you called. There’s one thing that’s been bothering me quite a bit ever since the press conference. I feel I owe it to you to say something about it.”
“What’s that?”
“I have this Christian friend who, several years ago, told me all of this would happen someday. He told me the Temple would be built north of the Dome of the Rock, leaving the Dome in the Outer Court. He also told me that animal sacrifices would be resumed for a short time and then stopped. He also said that the world leader who stopped the sacrifices would stand in the Temple and claim to be the Messiah.”
“He told you several years ago that all of this was going to happen? Well, then, maybe Arachev is the Messiah!”
“No, no, no. He didn’t say the one who did these things would be the Messiah. He said he would be a false messiah—the antichrist.”
“That’s incredible, but you know, I think I could believe it! I mean, especially since your friend told you so far in advance in such intricate detail.”
“There’s one more thing, which is the most important one of all. He told me that, when the antichrist stood in the Temple claiming to be the Messiah, horrible persecution would then break out against all the Jews living in Judea. Since that’s where you live, I felt like I should definitely tell you about it in case it proved to be right.”
“Well, everything else has proven to be right. Did your friend tell you what we who live in Judea should do?”
“Yes, actually, he did. He said that you must immediately flee into the mountains or wherever you can find a safe place. He claimed that the outbreak of violence would come so fast that if you are in your field, you should not even return to your house to get anything. He said that you must run for your life without delay!”
“Wow! I’m out in my field right now. I just used my cell phone to call you. Are you saying that I should flee from here right now?”
“That’s what he said. Listen, just to be safe, why don’t you take off this very moment? See if you can make it to my house, until we see whether this comes to pass. If something happens that you can’t make it here, remember to just flee into the countryside and hide until you can get to safety. Shlomo, I really think you should do this right now! Keep your phone with you in case you need to call me. I’ll be praying for you.”
“Thanks, Moshe. I may need it. Shalom.”
Shlomo nosed his Volvo onto the main road leading into Jerusalem. The checkpoint lay only ten kilometers ahead. His mind raced, planning what to do if he encountered trouble. His eyes scanned the horizon, looking for anything unusual. About three kilometers from the safety of Israeli-held territory, he saw traffic backing up in front of him. Instantly, he knew what he had to do.
He swerved onto a little-used back road that he knew would take him within about a kilometer and a half of Israel proper. The road was full of huge chuckholes. It had ceased to be used several years back. After one kilometer, two Palestinian soldiers stepped into the middle of the road, signaling him to stop. Shlomo slowed as if to stop, but at the last moment shoved the accelerator to the floor, aiming the car at first one soldier and then the other. As they dove for safety, the Volvo went careening by.
Shlomo knew that he couldn’t stay with the vehicle long. Soon the hillside would be teeming with Palestinians searching for him. About half a kilometer further, he slowed the vehicle near the edge of a steep ravine. Taking only a bottle of water and his cell phone, he stuffed an old pillow between the brake and the accelerator, then jumped clear. The Volvo lunged forward, catapulting over the ravine onto the rocks 120 feet below. The Palestinian vehicles in pursuit of him were only a few hundred feet away. They were coming from the passenger side, though, so he was sure they wouldn’t have seen him tumble out. He quickly hid himself where he could watch without being seen.
The tire marks on the pavement and the ridges where the Volvo had plunged off the road and over the edge were clearly visible. One of the Palestinians noticed and ordered their vehicle to stop. Gazing down to the rocks below, it was obvious to them that no one could have survived that wreck. Shlomo heard one of them say, “Dirty kike. Just what he deserved.”
Shlomo waited quietly in his hiding place. It didn’t take long for the Palestinians to return to their checkpoint. He lay quiet and thought. According to his calculations, he was approximately one and a half kilometers from Har Homa. Could he get there? He knew that he was facing the greatest level of danger that he had ever experienced in his life. “Dear God, be with me,” he prayed quietly under his breath.
Shlomo headed cross-country in the direction of Har Homa. He decided to risk one phone call. “Moshe, this is Shlomo. What you told me turned out to be right on the money. I need help. Meet me right at the edge of Har Homa at 9 o’clock.”
Moshe’s voice never hesitated. “You got it. I’ll be there. Look for my work vehicle.” Shlomo knew that was Moshe’s way of letting him know that he would be in the red panel van.
Shlomo traveled swiftly, but carefully. One careless move could mean his end. At 8:45 p.m., he approached the rendezvous point. He quickly hid himself about a hundred meters from the road. The border separating Palestinian territory from Israel proper was the only thing that stood between him and safety. He observed that the patrols monitoring the border were very frequent. Apparently they were looking for escaping settlers just like him.
Shlomo didn’t have much time to plan his dash to freedom. Each time the border sentry passed, Shlomo checked his watch. They were running at two-minute intervals. This was not going to be easy. His eyes scanned Israeli territory just ahead of him. He saw no sign of Moshe, but he was absolutely sure that he was there. If he knew his friend at all, Moshe was sitting in the darkness in his van, timing the intervals of the border patrols just like he was. Five minutes till nine. Another Palestinian soldier walked by, looking around carefully as he went. At three minutes till the hour, another guard went by. Still no sign of Moshe.
Shlomo’s senses were heightened by the danger that loomed just ahead. His eyes scanned the hills on the other side of the road carefully and systematically. Would Moshe make his move after the sentry passed at one minute before the hour, or would he wait until one minute after? As the next guard passed, the soldier looked right over in Shlomo’s direction. Shlomo hugged the ground. There’s no way he could have seen me, he thought. After a long hesitation, the Palestinian continued on. Every muscle in Shlomo’s body now tensed for the dash through mortal danger to safety. A full minute passed. No sign of Moshe. Every second was vital! Shlomo was like a coiled spring ready to release. Still there was nothing.
What if something had happened? What if Moshe had been stopped from coming by the Israeli police because of the volatility of the area? Shlomo shoved those tormenting thoughts to the back of his mind. No. I know Moshe. He will be here. I would trust him with my life. For a moment, Shlomo allowed himself a wry grin. I guess that’s what I’m doing right now, isn’t it?
It was at that instant that Shlomo saw the beam of the headlights coming around the corner. This is it! he thought. Now everything was instinct. His legs pumped like two powerful cylinders. “Faster,” he said to himself. He was weaving as he ran. It sounded like a firecracker, but Shlomo knew exactly what it was. He had heard the crack of an AK-47 too many times. “Move it, move it,” he screamed to himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the next sentry running in his direction. Shlomo felt like he was in slow motion. He could tell that Moshe was moving along slowly, as though nothing was afoot. Yet, apparently, he had spotted Shlomo weaving through the trees and the rocks. Shlomo was about fifty feet from Moshe’s red van and safety, but bullets were now whizzing all about him.